I don’t know what was in the water at the Connecticut Fiction Fest May 14, but after I got home, all I wanted to do was write. I mailed off the two full hardcopies that were requested, studied some craft articles online, and just seemed to get compulsive about sitting down at my desk and working on my current story. I play my harp or pennywhistle for about five minutes, light the three battery candles on my desk, and just get lost in 1070 A.D. I’m going to the RWA National Conference in New York next week–only 90 miles from home–yay!! As much as I’m looking forward to it, I hate to leave the peace of the June garden and the music and candlelight of creative evenings at home. Times Square is so…well, how can I describe it–noisy, crazy, garish–yes, and fabulous. I do love New York City, but I’m in a medieval state of mind just now. Here is a picture of my yard–it looks countrified like a cottage garden of several hundred years ago. I don’t know when picket fences started–I’ll have to research that!